


one rose is enough for dawn

by bravelove



Category: Knight of Fangs - Fandom, Sunless
Genre: Crypt, Gen, Magic Roses, Sir Lying continues his tradition of naming his horses mlp characters, Vampires, vampire mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21844336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravelove/pseuds/bravelove
Summary: It was not money that drew Sir Lying to the crypt, but curiosity. His actions will echo down as a vampire awakens and all must deal with those consequences.
Kudos: 4





	one rose is enough for dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Okay brain I wrote the thing now leave me alone about this idea so I can focus on my other wips

It was not a quest that brought him to the crypt, but a sense of curiosity. You see, there was no real reason they could find for there to even be a crypt there. Too recent to be ancient ruins, and no sense of the nobility in the land for miles, just small towns. It seemed it was just that someone had once upon a time randomly built it for someone they had likely loved dearly. Rumors whispered about it, some said it was left abandoned for the looters, ultimately picked off its riches, defiled by bored teenagers that wished to seem daring. Others said there was still a caretaker for it, that they rarely visited, but when they did they would clean it up, and hunt down those who defiled it, taking them away to either repent or be killed. 

Sir Lying though, was pretty sure those rumors were simply gossip passed along from ear to ear for years stretched so far beyond the truth it might as well been a pure fabrication. The most he could find himself to even humor from them was that there could potentially still be a family taking care of it and that looters had probably hit it hard over the years. It wasn’t too old after all, maybe a century old, plenty of time for looters, but short enough time for there still to be family connected to it.

So when he rode to the crypt, he did not fear a caretakers wrath, nor expect much, a simple trip to settle curiosity while his band slept, even his squire rested back at camp as he felt such a small indulgence had no need for backup. After all, even if there was some angry caretaker of the crypt, he trusted both his charisma and his battle prowess to keep him from harm. It wasn’t like he was there to loot or defile it. He just wanted definitive proof to shut down the rumors and learn the truth of the place, especially after Czol got them running around the camp and kept everyone up.

As he stood at the entrance, he took it in, a bit more on the smaller side then he expected, but still had pillars of durable, sturdy greyish black quartz. Really Sir Lying thought it was a bit garish. He looked deeper in to see the walls a darker shade of quartz with a red quartz trim, and in the dark of the night, he could not deny it had a presence as he looked upon it. 

The vegetation of wild and untamed napellus surrounding it combined with the strange choice of black and red, it seemed less like a crypt and more like something demonic. Whoever built this had a bizarre sense of colors for a crypt, and he couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with a traditional white. 

Attention finally snapping away from the building when he heard his horse whinny, he patted Sweetie Belle’s snout to calm her, it seemed she had sensed the presence of the building as well, and it had spooked her. Sir Lying was not surprised, horses spooked rather easily. After settling down his horse, he tied her to a nearby tree and headed inside to examine more closely, his curiosity growing the more he gazed upon the strange building. Just what mysteries did such a uniquely designed crypt hide inside? Who was this person that had a family wealthy enough to both afford this quartz special, and why did they do it? He knew the only way he could get answers outside from the rumored keeper was to go inside. 

So sword at the ready to be drawn just in case the rumors were actually right, he took his first step inside. It was darker then he thought it’d be inside, with no torches, and the only light being the glint of the red quartz catching the moonlight, heading back to his horse, who was pawing the earth like she really wanted to bolt. Not liking to see her so upset, he patted and soothed her down once more before reaching into the bag at his horses’ side and pulled a torch from it and his tinderbox from his pocket. Soon he had lit the oiled rag at the end of it and held it aloft.

Soon back inside the crypt he looked closely at the halls, it was a rather small and yet turned quite a lot, the red inlay was expertly woven into the black, he was expecting to get tired of it within minutes, and yet, the artist who had designed it had seemed to realize the issue, and the pattern was continually changing, continually weaving. It was quite beautiful if still not Sir Lying’s thing. He wondered just how long it must have taken, all hand down, likely by one person by how perfect the continuation of the patterns were. 

Eventually though, he tired of staring at the walls, the patterns while pretty, revealed nothing, and he was here to learn, not gawk. Mind firmly set, he walked quickly through the crypt, weaving through weirdly empty rooms, before he ended up at the center of the crypt. In front of him laid a coffin of rich dark oak, and on top of it, drawing the eye was a single burgundy rose, petals dusty, and yet, still blooming as if it were still on the plant. It was a marvelous sight, almost seeming to glow on top of the coffin. 

He walked closer and brushed his fingers upon it, yes it was indeed real, it was so beautiful, so strange. Wondering about it as he found himself picking it up, was it enchanted? It was nothing like any rose Sir Lying had seen, he had to study it. A pang of guilt suddenly hit his gut. Still, he brushed it away, it would be rude to take it, yes, but tomorrow he could return with new flowers to replace it, there was no reason to dishonor the dead if he could have it both ways. 

Gently holding the rose to make sure he would not drop it, nor would the fire catch onto it, he looked upon the room one last time. The quartz was extra beautiful here, suddenly joined by a swirl of purple that seemed to dance in harmony with the more encompassing red and black. Besides, the coffin was a dusty basin and strange items of stone he had never seen before that clutched onto clear quartz orbs. The remains of iron bars were in a side room he could view from where he stood. It was clear there was more to the story of this crypt. Still, he had already intruded more then what may be considered polite, especially as he was taking the rose. Still, as he would be returning soon to make up for this transgression, he figured he could explore more then. 

Turning to leave, he departed from the crypt, riding back to base. The rose never leaving his hand, his curiosity indeed caught by it, he had no idea the true lengths of what he had done.

In one town away, a tailor froze upon his loom, a chill down his spine, telling him of broken magic. With a gasp, he quickly got up and left the loom. Rushing to put on his coat, he was out the door into the moonlight. He had to inform the ladies that something had gone very wrong, the clutch must move quickly if he wanted everything he had spent years working on to not end in vain. He just hoped he would not be barging in on anything too obscene again, but they must be informed. He would not let everything fail now, not when they were so close. 

Back at the crypt, a pair of eyes opened once more, deep red, and starved. They needed to feed, they needed their fledgling, they needed blood. They would think more upon everything later because right now, they were just so hungry. Their mouth was so dry, but soon, everything would be just perfect once more. They grinned into the night as they exited the crypt upon the smell of people, they would not starve for long. Adjusting their hat and holding their cane, they were off to track down their prey. Chasing after there hungry with a pure single-minded intensity they hadn’t felt since a new fledgling themselves. They must feed.


End file.
